Of Gnomes and Dark Magic
by MetamorphmagusLupin
Summary: AU. In an attempt to convince her father of the existence of magical creatures in their neighborhood, Zoe lets slip a bit of knowledge that Severus isn't happy about.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Here is another snippet from my Severus and Zoe series to appease my rabid fans (I'm being facetious, by the way, not boastful-though I love all of you that have read, especially those kind enough to review) while I continue to work on my longer story.**_

_**I had one reader send me a PM to ask if these were all chapters from the longer story that I intend to post and the answer to that is no. These are merely glimpses into Severus and Zoe's lives throughout Zoe's childhood that allow you to see a bit of their home life. I've always wanted to give Severus a relatively normal life after all that he went through during the wars. What better way to do that than to thrust him into fatherhood? And, yes, these are meant to be mostly canon compliant (including the epilogue) with the exception that some characters didn't snuff it like they do in the books, obviously.**_

_**This story was a bit long, so I split it into two chapters. I'll post the second part in a few days.**_

_**Again, I'm skipping around in time a bit, but it shouldn't be disorienting. If you're curious, however, this story takes place between **_**The Art of Communication**_** and **_**A Father's Right_._**

**_Enjoy._**

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><p><strong>OF GNOMES AND DARK MAGIC<strong>

Chapter 1

Zoe jogged quickly up the cobbled sidewalk, trying to stay as low as possible so as not to be seen by the inhabitants of the sleepy houses of Taylor's Way. This street ran perpendicular to the one on which she lived—Spinner's End—and was the street upon which most of the Muggle factory workers of the old mill town resided, along with their children.

Children whom Zoe never could quite get along with, really.

As much as Zoe tried to utilize her keen self-preservation instinct as much as possible (despite her father's opinion on the matter), their encounters were often loud and defensive. They usually ended in one of two fashions: One involved Zoe trying to sneak home without her father seeing her torn and dirty clothing from the scuffle that always seemed to break out. The other had Zoe trying to explain away or otherwise appear perplexed as to how one of the children ended up hanging upside down from a tree branch or drenched in the murky, smelly water from the nearby river.

Either way, Zoe found herself in trouble the majority of the time for such situations (brawling was undignified, barbaric and brainless, her father said), so today she hoped to avoid the other children completely.

That afternoon, however, she could have sworn she'd seen a gnome and she refused to be deterred by a few Muggle bullies in her quest to find it. Zoe crouched down behind a rubbish bin and waited quietly for another sign of the little man and she didn't have to wait long for there was a rustle just then and the bushes to her left started to giggle—mocking her no doubt. Making sure the coast was clear she started forward again.

She had been trying to convince her father for the last month that gnomes were roaming about the Muggle neighborhood and were not merely confined to their own back garden-as he kept telling her. He assured her that, were there an infestation of anything but the horrid, ceramic gnomes that Muggles used as lawn decoration, the Ministry of Magic would be aware of it and deal with it. Zoe remained skeptical, adamant that her father was wrong. Therefore, she was dead-set on catching one just to prove it to him.

And now one of the bold little buggers was sticking his head out of the hedge and blowing raspberries at her. She acted as if she hadn't seen anything as she strolled past it and then, just as she was sure the gnome thought it had escaped capture, she pounced through the hedge with a snarl and pinned it on the other side.

She barely noticed the scratches that the bushes had caused to her arms, neck and face nor how twigs and leaves had settled into the fine waves of her dark brown hair. All she cared about was keeping the stupid gnome pinned and immobile while at the same time avoiding the teeth that liked to latch on to her long fingers and her ears and nose.

Gnomes weren't exactly large magical creatures, of course, but neither was Zoe. After all, she was only eight and was merely average-sized, as far as eight-year-olds go, and she _was_ rather skinny. In all honesty, the gnome was quite difficult to control and soon, the little creature squirmed out of her grasp and started running away.

Exasperated, Zoe moved quickly on her hands and knees through the dirt trying to catch up to the gnome. She would capture it this time, she was sure of it. The little man weaved in and out of the various plants and Zoe did her best to stay right on his heels but he was so fast and soon, he was nowhere in sight.

Perplexed as to how he could have gotten away when she had been so close to him, Zoe wheeled around to look in every direction and listened intently for any sign that the gnome might be close, but she heard absolutely nothing. That is, until:

"_Zoe Snape_!"

Zoe cringed upon hearing the shrill voice call her name. Surely, she hadn't found herself in Mrs. Powers's garden once again? Her father would _murder_ her.

"Zoe Snape! You're in for it now, little lady! I won't have it! I absolutely won't have it! Out! Out!"

Zoe stood and turned solemnly to face the old woman who was limping towards her with all the ferocity of a horde of angry bees. Mrs. Powers was a short, squat octogenarian with frizzy white curls, a hunched back and skin that was as wrinkled as an elephant's. She always wore puce-colored track suits, refused to walk with a cane—though she clearly needed one—and, for the last few years, she had been trying to catch Zoe at any kind of wrongdoing. Sometimes, like today, she succeeded, but Zoe was usually too cunning for the old woman and got out of many of the infractions before Mrs. Powers could tell on her.

"Look at what you've done to my daffodils!" the woman shouted, pointing down into the flowerbed that Zoe was still standing in.

Looking around, Zoe found that she had indeed destroyed many of what she was sure had been fine-looking daffodils but had now been reduced to wilted, trampled patches of color amongst the brown soil.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Mrs. Powers asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Zoe wrinkled her face up in slight embarrassment as she glanced from the trampled flowers to Mrs. Powers.

"Oops?" she offered as a response.

Zoe had been certain the wrinkles on the old woman's face couldn't have gotten any deeper until she saw it for herself as Mrs. Powers frowned at her.

A few minutes later, Zoe found herself being led along the street by her ear as the woman lectured almost incoherently about children these days running amok and how all Zoe's father really needed for her to be a perfectly behaved, obedient child was a "firm hand". Zoe barely listened. She'd heard it all before. In fact, she'd heard it the last time Mrs. Powers had caught her in her garden. Her father hadn't spanked her then, and she seriously doubted he would do it this time either. There was only a minute chance she would go unpunished at all, but her father was unlikely to strike her. After all, he preferred much more unorthodox forms of torture, er, discipline…like forcing her to study advanced maths and horticulture on beautiful Saturday afternoons or having her endure endless hours of boredom watching the exact way in which to dissect a frog and culture its organs, then making her clean up afterward. Or memorizing the uses for obscure potions ingredients… or writing lines, so many horrid, horrid lines.

After what seemed like ages considering Zoe's ear was now throbbing quite painfully from the old woman's vice-like grip on it, the two of them finally came to a halt at the door of Zoe's house. Still holding on to her ear, Mrs. Powers reached up and knocked several times and then she waited.

"I won't have it, girl," the woman continued. "I hate to do this, but your father needs to know what you get up to around here. Your shenanigans have gone too far and I can't have you trampling my prized flowers every day of the week."

Zoe rolled her eyes knowing her father didn't know about half of the "shenanigans" she got up to and the information Mrs. Powers was about to impart to him wasn't going to change that. She also highly doubted Mrs. Powers hated to do this. In fact, Zoe was almost certain that the old woman lived to snitch on the neighborhood children. Zoe just wished she'd caught the gnome. At least then, she'd have something to show for her escapades into enemy territory.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and there stood Zoe's father, his slightly-less-than-shoulder-length black hair stood in stark contrast to the pallor of his skin and the crisp whiteness of his collared shirt. Zoe had always found that her father was not nearly as intimidating when not clothed in the billowing black robes he normally wore, and yet she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread overcome her cool defiance as he looked first from Mrs. Powers then down to herself and back, the scowl he normally sported deepening before her eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest imposingly before leaning almost casually against the doorframe.

"What has she done this time?" he half-sighed in an annoyed manner.

Finally, Mrs. Powers released Zoe's ear. Zoe immediately tried to rub the pain out of it.

"Mr. Snape," the old woman began. "Your daughter has been wreaking havoc in my garden once again. You should see the state of my daffodils. Over half of them are absolutely ruined. Now, I won't have it, sir. I absolutely won't have it. My daffodils have always been a firm staple within this neighborhood and in the span of only a few weeks, all my years of hard work have amounted to nothing at all because your daughter can't seem to keep to the pavement or, better yet, to the confines of your _own_ garden where, I'm sure she could destroy as many flowers as she sees fit. The girl needs discipline, Mr. Snape. Now, I've said it before, but you obviously have not employed my wise words of advice. Perhaps a good thrashing will keep her in line…"

"Do you think so?" Zoe's father said glibly, raising his eyebrows as he caught Zoe's eye and set her with a stern frown before turning his attention once more to the old woman before him. Zoe rolled her own eyes after her father had looked away.

"Yes, I think it would do her a world of good," Mrs. Powers continued, obviously missing the sarcastic tone of Zoe's father's question. "Put her in her place, you see. It is quite obvious she needs to be taught the lesson that it is rude to trespass onto a poor old woman's property and destroy her flowers."

Zoe's father stood upright once again and moved to the side of the door, indicating to Zoe to admit herself into the house as he addressed the old woman.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Powers. As always, your parenting advice is more than helpful and I truly… regret that my heathen of a daughter has once again harmed what I know you hold most dear. And please, let me assure you, she will be dealt with accordingly."

He then turned to look over his shoulder at Zoe.

"Have you apologized to Mrs. Powers?" he asked dully.

"No," Zoe stated, wrinkling her nose as if the very notion disgusted her.

Her father narrowed his eyes at her, his scowl becoming dangerous. "Well, _do_ _it_ _now_," he commanded through gritted teeth, his voice low.

Zoe frowned. He was only doing this for show. She knew that he didn't _really_ care about the old lady's flowers, per se, only that he had to keep putting up with the shrew when Zoe ruined them. Zoe looked to Mrs. Powers briefly, then to the ceiling.

"I'm sorry for wrecking your flowers, Mrs. Powers," she mumbled.

The woman merely pursed her lips at Zoe before turning back to her father. "For her own good, I do hope you're quite firm with her, Mr. Snape. It does our great country a disservice to have its young citizens running about with no order or discipline to speak of."

"Yes, quite the disservice," her father drawled offhandedly as he pushed the door closed and whirled around to face Zoe, crossing his arms over his chest once more.

"Are you truly incapable of staying out of trouble for one afternoon?" he asked harshly.

Zoe looked at the floor, fidgeting. "Not _incapable_…" she mumbled. Her father frowned.

"Look at the state of you. You're absolutely filthy," he complained, grumbling, as he strode toward her, pulling his wand from his sleeve. "I swear, the things that you get— Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth Snape! I just bought you those trousers! Look at them! You've practically ripped them to shreds!"

He lifted her chin to heal the scrapes on her face and neck with his wand while still grumbling under his breath about her grubby hands and tangled hair. Zoe tried to be still so he could administer his magical first aid, but she found it difficult not to wriggle about. She never thought she'd be able to understand how her father could fuss over her so and still make her squirm under such a strong, stern gaze.

"Explain yourself," he demanded evenly, turning her head to the side and, thankfully, taking the pain out of her abused left ear with a tap before grabbing her arms and turning her from side to side, scowling as he surveyed the state of her attire.

Zoe took a deep breath as she felt the ripped pocket and snagged seam of her denims mend themselves magically.

"It was a gnome, Papa. I _swear_ I saw one."

Her father stopped his ministrations immediately and stared down at his daughter. Upon seeing the sincerity in her eyes, he released her and stowed his wand away.

"Not this again," he muttered, rolling his eyes and walking past her into the sitting room.

"It's true!" Zoe defended, following her father. "I even had it pinned this time, but he got away, then I chased him and, well, I didn't even realize I was in Mrs. Powers's garden until she grabbed my ear."

Zoe watched as her father collapsed into his green armchair and placed his head in one of his hands, rubbing his temples.

"How many times must I tell you?" he asked, sighing. "Gnomes only inhabit the gardens of witches and wizards. Mrs. Powers is a Muggle. There is absolutely no way you could have seen a gnome in her garden."

"But I did!" Zoe said, exasperated, as she fell back onto the sofa. "I saw it! I chased it! Why can't you just believe—?"

"That's enough," her father said sternly. "I refuse to indulge you with the same ridiculous argument again. I suggest you drop it before I lose my patience entirely."

Zoe huffed and pouted, but quieted and for a moment, the two silently stared at each other before Zoe heard her father inhale and continue.

"Now, this is the third time that woman has brought you home for destroying her garden— Zoe, eyes up when I speak to you." Zoe obediently raised her eyes to meet her father's. "—and I, like her, will not tolerate it anymore. For the next week, you are restricted to this house and garden—"

"A week!" Zoe complained, cutting her father off. He glared at her.

"—_and_, since you enjoy hunting gnomes so much, I'm sure you'll find our own infestation quite thrilling to catch and contain for you will be doing that for the duration of your house arrest."

"But Papa…"

"I won't hear it," her father stated resolutely. He gave her a pointed look. "It isn't too late to reconsider Mrs. Powers's suggestion of punishment, if you prefer."

"No, sir," Zoe said, sulking, feeling as if this whole situation was unfair. It wasn't as if she wrecked Mrs. Powers's garden maliciously. It just…happened.

For several minutes, neither talked as Zoe kicked absently at the threadbare rug under her shoe and her father thoroughly ignored his daughter's pouting.

"Have you completed the reading I assigned you this week?" he asked.

"Ages ago," said Zoe, continuing to look down.

"And the Latin translations?"

"Finished."

"What about the short essays? Or the maths problems?"

Zoe's eyes met her father's briefly then she averted them away.

"That's a no, then?" he asked.

"I was…er—"

Zoe's father held up his hand to halt her.

"Stop right there. I am in no mood to hear what I'm sure will be an overly absurd, fabricated excuse for why you haven't finished your schoolwork."

"It's the summer holidays!" Zoe whined. "None of the other kids are doing school stuff."

"_You_ are not on holiday," her father stated plainly.

"I would be if I went to school like everyone else."

Her father sighed heavily and closed his eyes as if silently willing patience.

"Zoe, we have had this discussion before. At the Muggle school, you couldn't keep your abilities under control long enough to actually learn anything. I had to _Obliviate_ two different teachers as well as the headmaster in order to cover up your magical outbursts. That is why I made the decision to educate you myself. And, unfortunately, my busy brewing schedule keeps us from having lessons every day which is why you have lessons and assignments on weekends and throughout the summer _and_ why I expect you to do your assigned work on our days off—which you obviously have not done."

He eyed her sternly and Zoe cringed. She was in trouble for that and he would do a better job of making sure that she kept to her studies in the future.

"No child of mine is going to fall behind her classmates simply because a convenient school time for me conflicts with what you foolishly perceive as playtime."

"Scorpius gets to go to a day school for magical children in London," Zoe pointed out petulantly.

Her father huffed and gave her a withering glare. "Scorpius's parents can _afford_ to send him to a private, magical day school or bring in tutors whenever they please. _Your_ _father_ can not so you are therefore stuck under my tutelage until Hogwarts and that is the end of it."

Zoe's shoulders slumped. Yes, she knew all this, but it just wasn't fair that she had to study so much during the summer when other children didn't. Even if she had to go to the Muggle school again with all the children she disliked, it was better than her father's tasking curriculum. "_Please_, Papa," Zoe whined, "If you let me go back in the new term, I'll be good. I swear. I'll make an Unbreakable Vow to—"

Her father was on his feet in an instant and lifted Zoe up off the sofa. He clutched her upper arms tightly and held her very close to his face as her feet dangled in midair.

"How do you know of the Unbreakable Vow?" he demanded, his voice sounding almost desperate.

"I… I…" Zoe was confused and the way her father was acting was scaring her.

"You have not made one, have you?" he asked, searching her face.

Zoe looked into the black chasm of her father's eyes, trying to understand why he seemed so worried all of a sudden.

"Have you?" he asked again louder, desperately. He shook her slightly.

"No!" Zoe shouted as she felt tears start to well up in her eyes.

Her father set her back down on the floor then, breathing heavily and obviously trying to compose himself—he seemed relieved—but he still stared down his hooked nose at Zoe with a fierceness she didn't understand. He placed one of his hands on the top of her head, tilting it back so that she had to look up at him.

"Where did you hear about the Unbreakable Vow?"

Zoe averted her eyes from his. She was trying to stall telling her father for she suddenly felt very ashamed for knowing such information. She looked up into his eyes and he watched her solemnly, waiting for her answer.

Taking a deep breath, Zoe answered:

"Scorpius."

Her father closed his eyes, obviously frustrated, as his earlier scowl returned. He walked resolutely toward the fireplace.

"Ollie."

The little house elf appeared before him immediately with a pop.

"Mister Severus is calling for Ollie?" the creature squeaked.

"Yes. I will be away for an hour or so. Zoe will remain here."

Ollie looked from the wizard to Zoe briefly and nodded her head vigorously.

"Ollie is pleased to watch after Miss Zoe while her Papa is away, Mister Severus."

Her father inclined his head slightly before grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the dish on the mantle. "Go upstairs and do your schoolwork," he then commanded to his daughter in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

"Where are you going?" she asked curiously.

"I must go to Malfoy Manor and have a chat with Mr. Malfoy and my godson."

"But Papa—"

Her father glared at her. "Go, now. I want those maths problems on my desk when I return. I will not be long. Mind Ollie."

And with that, her father tossed the powder into the fireplace and was gone as the green flames enveloped him. Zoe trudged up the stairs to her father's study and gathered the problems he'd written out for her on a piece of parchment and began to work quickly through the fractions, long division and simple algebra.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Having checked out my schedule for the next few days, I realized it would be nearly a week before I could post the second and final chapter to this snippet if I didn't do it today. So, here it is now so nobody has to wait.**_

_**Please review. Thanks!**_

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><p><strong>OF GNOMES AND DARK MAGIC<strong>

Chapter 2

Nearly an hour after her father's departure to Malfoy Manor, Zoe heard the clear sound of boots climbing the stairs. She looked up a moment later as he entered the study and watched as he crossed straight to his desk and collapsed into the chair with a great sigh. He rubbed his face for a moment as if exhausted then glanced to where Zoe sat cross-legged on the floor using a book as a writing surface.

"Come. Bring them here," he said, waving her over.

Zoe stood and walked resolutely to stand beside her father behind his desk as he took a jar of red ink from a drawer and placed his black, rectangular spectacles onto his nose. Drawing his handsome eagle-feather quill, he began to mark her work quietly. Zoe fidgeted a bit, waiting, and picked at the wood of her father's desk.

"You didn't finish the last two," he said evenly after several minutes, waving her hand away from his desk impatiently.

Zoe shrugged. "I didn't have enough time."

"If you had started on this when I assigned it two days ago, you would have had plenty of time," he scolded, peering sternly down his nose at her.

Zoe's eyes dropped to the fascinating wood of her father's desk once more, but she had no retort.

"The rest of these are correct, however," he continued. "I think it is time to begin incorporating true algebra and some simple Arithmancy into your education."

"Do we have to?" Zoe whined loudly without even thinking. Her father's eyebrows shot up in a clear challenge to continue with the insolence if she wanted to see exactly how far his tolerance of it would stretch. Zoe quieted immediately and her father sighed.

"Zoe, you are ready to move on. Don't you wish to expand your learning?"

"Not in maths," she grumbled.

Her father's lips fell into a thin line. "Well, it isn't up for discussion. We will begin more-advanced lessons Monday morning. Now, where are your translations?"

Zoe pointed to the corner of her father's desk. Her father took up the parchment and immediately scowled down at it.

"Have we not addressed your penmanship on several occasions, young lady?" he said, squinting down at the scroll before looking at his daughter earnestly.

"Yes, but—"

"Do you honestly have an explanation for these scribbles?" he mocked, holding the sloppy work up to show her.

Zoe frowned. "You said I could go to the park once I finished them," she mumbled.

Her father raised a single eyebrow. "In other words, this is the result of a hurried hand; a little girl more fixated on fun time than on her studies. Something else we have discussed, I believe…"

"None of them are wrong," Zoe defended her work.

"Yet, you can't be sure of that until I mark them and I can't possibly mark them if I can't read them, now can I? These will have to be rewritten—tonight," her father responded, handing the parchment to Zoe and softening his features slightly. "I have seen you write quite elegantly. You mustn't allow yourself to rush through your work. Be precise and thorough. You will gain speed in legibility with time and practice."

Zoe nodded though she was thoroughly annoyed with her father's seemingly relentless scrutiny. She started to turn away but her father latched onto her arm and brought her back to face him.

"We are not finished here," he said firmly. The inflection of his words sent a sudden flutter of apprehension to Zoe's stomach as she somehow knew that her father was no longer going to remain on the subject of equations and penmanship.

"How much did Scorpius tell you about the Unbreakable Vow?" he asked, almost as if he was tired.

Zoe shuffled her feet. "Er, that it's unbreakable, I guess," she mumbled. "But I kind of figured that out from the name…"

"Did he tell you how to cast one? Or, perhaps, what happens if a person were to break one?"

She shook her head. "No. He, er… he didn't really know a lot about them."

Zoe could feel her father's heavy, onyx eyes boring into the top of her head as she examined her shoes before he gingerly placed his hand below her chin, guiding her head up so she could look at him.

"You lied to me."

Zoe's eyes grew wide instinctively before she could ever even try her poker face. But it was too late now, her father had seen it and now held her arm in a slightly stronger grip.

"When I arrived at Malfoy Manor and confronted Scorpius about the Unbreakable Vow," her father said, "he confessed to telling you about it, said that he had read to you from a book. I, of course, rounded on Mr. Malfoy who was, frankly, astonished. He informed me that there wasn't a book in their library that so much as _hinted_ at Dark Magic. So, Draco and I dug further. I'm sure you know where Scorpius said he got that book, don't you, Zoe?"

Zoe fidgeted. Of course, she knew. She had seen the book in the very study in which she was now standing and smuggled it into her bag nearly a week ago—the previous Sunday—to show off to Scorpius at the weekly brunch. He was always gloating about his expensive toys and wonderful holidays in beautiful countries and his knowledge of Quidditch teams that, for once, Zoe wanted to one up him.

Once out of sight and hearing of their respective parents following the meal, Scorpius had taken the book from Zoe and skimmed through it. He had only really gotten through reading the definition of the Vow aloud before Mrs. Malfoy had poked her head into the room. Scorpius had quickly stuffed the book in between the cushions of the sofa so as not to be caught with it and Zoe had only just placed the tome back into her bag before her own father came to announce their departure.

"Why did you lie to me, Zoe?" her father asked then, zapping her back into her present situation.

"I don't know," she mumbled quietly, averting her eyes once again.

Her father slammed his left hand down onto the surface of the desk then—causing her to jump—as he pulled her toward him so close that their noses nearly collided.

"You do know," he hissed ferociously. "Tell me now why you lied, for you shall not like the consequences should you not."

Zoe futilely struggled against her father's grasp as tears started to well in her eyes.

"B-because you l-looked so…so…_scared_ that I knew about it and I thought maybe I was…I was going to get in a lot of trouble for knowing."

"You _are_ in a lot of trouble, but it has nothing to do with your knowledge of the Vow. For despite you knowing exactly where the information came from and fessing up about a stolen book, you thought it more appropriate to have me go to the Malfoys and falsely accuse their son of telling you about Dark Arts."

Her father's voice had started quite low but now seemed to crescendo with each word, and Zoe couldn't help but cower slightly. She knew he was angry, but she also knew he was reining back the worst of his temper for her sake for when her father was truly irate, his voice became lower, more menacing, and he tended to not speak so eloquently.

"I looked like a _complete_ _fool_," her father continued, "and that is not something I enjoy or appreciate, young lady. And what's _worse_ is that you _lied_ to me and told me it was Scorpius in a clear, manipulative and vindictive attempt to have the blame fall on him. That sort of behavior is _cowardly_, absolutely _disgraceful_ and unbecoming of a respectable young witch and for _that_ I have half a mind to paddle your behind."

Zoe trembled, fearful that her father may spank her but knowing in the back of her mind, that she had really brought it on herself. She had panicked at her father's reaction to her knowledge and, instead of thinking about what she was saying, she had fibbed—baldly. She had thought her father would be annoyed but she hadn't thought that he might feel strongly enough to confront Scorpius about it.

"I'm sorry, Papa, please, I'm sorry," Zoe managed to squeak out, knowing it was feeble at best for what she had done.

He continued to stare severely down at her for several moments before finally releasing her arm and sitting back in his chair, staring off away from her.

Zoe stood solidly in place but she was looking at the floor. Despite how much trouble she was in, she had questions she wanted to ask but she knew better than to start asking them until her father had calmed down considerably or risk a continuation of his tongue-lashing. After all, her father could lecture, rant and threaten for England—she definitely didn't want to start him up again.

Once she was certain that he wouldn't yell anymore, Zoe cautiously took a step toward his chair and leaned into his shoulder. He unconsciously looped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and lightly patted her hip, but he didn't look at her.

The tension still a little high, Zoe busied herself by running her fingers over the folds of her father's robes and playing with the buttons on his cuff. He seemed oblivious or was ignoring her. Eventually, having felt the tense air dissipate, Zoe looked up to him.

"Papa? Why were you so scared?"

Obsidian eyes found her deep blue and Zoe saw an immediate flash of annoyance.

"I wasn't scared," he stated, biting, but his next words were softer, tender even. "Even wandless magical children can cast certain spells, including oaths. I was merely…concerned that you had tried something foolish."

Zoe nodded though she was sure those two words meant roughly the same thing.

"So, er…what _does_ happen if you break an Unbreakable Vow?" she asked timidly, eyeing her father warily.

"Can you not figure that out on your own?" he asked almost immediately.

Zoe thought for a moment, and then shook her head.

Her father looked away again. His eyes went very distant and when he did finally speak, his voice was softer than Zoe had ever known it to be both in volume and in timbre.

"The Vow is very much what it says it is: unbreakable. To contravene one would be a violation of one of the oldest and deepest forms of magical bonds. The witch or wizard would pay the ultimate price for such a breach."

Zoe wrinkled her brow, thinking very hard about her father's words when suddenly it occurred to her exactly what he was talking about. The _ultimate_ _price_.

She looked up into her father's face, horrified, as the former tears returned to sting her eyes. Her father responded instantly to her reaction and pulled her onto his lap, taking his handkerchief from within his robes and handing it to her.

"No tears," he said as he pushed her head to lay against his chest. "There is no need for such emotion."

"But that's so…_awful_," Zoe said, drying her eyes.

"Indeed," was her father's only response.

He allowed her to sit there for several minutes as he pulled a scroll of parchment toward him to read. Zoe squirmed slightly.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever made an Unbreakable Vow?"

Zoe could feel her father tense beneath her and the parchment he had been holding fell to the floor. Zoe sat up and looked at him and was alarmed to see shock register across his features—and regret, maybe—before an impassive expression replaced it an instant later.

"Go work on your essays," he said, placing Zoe back onto her feet.

"Now?" Zoe didn't understand why the entire atmosphere in the room had shifted so suddenly.

"Yes, _now_," her father said sternly, turning her toward the door and giving her bottom a swat to get her moving.

"Ow! Papa!" Zoe complained as she danced forward.

"Do as you're told."

Zoe started walking, dragging her feet. She wasn't in the right mood to write essays, especially not now that her father had quite clearly refused to answer her question.

"_Accio Darkest Vows, Oaths and Blood Bonds_," she suddenly heard him say behind her.

A moment later, Zoe had to dodge out of the way as the book flew through the open door and into her father's waiting palm. He glanced briefly at the black-covered tome then frowned up at her.

"This was in your bedroom?" he asked.

Zoe stared and then slowly nodded. Her father sighed and took off his glasses, placing them on the desk before him. He rose from his chair with the book in hand, walked to one of the bookshelves across the room and replaced it between the two books from which Zoe had nicked it. He turned to look directly at her.

"Are there any other books up there that I would not approve of you reading? If there are, it would be wise to tell me now."

"No, sir," Zoe stated truthfully.

He watched her a moment longer before barely nodding in concession.

"Very well. From now on, I shall be restricting the books you have access to in this house. Anything above a Hogwarts third year curriculum is off limits. In other words, if you can't pull it easily from the shelf, you have no business reading it. Is that understood?"

Zoe desperately wanted to protest but one look at the severe expression on her father's face and she thought better of it.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Good. Now, at brunch tomorrow, you are going to apologize to Scorpius as well as Mr. Malfoy for your lies and when we return, you'll spend the rest of the day restricted to your bedroom," he said. "Your house arrest from the garden incident will apply through next Sunday."

Zoe nodded in defeat—she'd really done it this time. "Yes, Papa."

"Come here," her father commanded evenly and Zoe reluctantly made her way to where he stood by the bookshelf. When she stood before him, he cupped her chin in his hand and made her look up at him.

"Lies and deceit not only spawn distrust in a person's character and cause one's word to be questioned, they can hurt others," he said plainly. "You _will_ _not_ lie to me. This is your only warning. I can assure you, if I get so much as a hint that you have repeated this despicable behavior, your punishment next time is unlikely to be so lenient."

"Yes, sir."

Her father released her chin and nodded once more. He walked back to his desk, sat down and, after replacing his spectacles to his nose, he continued reading the scroll.

"Essays," he reminded her firmly without ever looking up. "And I don't want to see you in those filthy clothes at dinner."

Zoe scowled and started for her bedroom.

No books above a third year curriculum? That left very few of the interesting books in her father's vast library. Hopefully one of them she _was_ allowed to read would give her a clue as to how to get around child-proofing charms…

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Severus is a bit hard on Zoe here, I know, but keep in mind that he is a tasking professor. There is no reason to believe that, even as a parent, he wouldn't expect excellence from one of his pupils-maybe even more so from his own child. Zoe is exceptionally intelligent and Severus sees that, no doubt, but he is also a bit annoyed by her seeming lack of ambition as far as her studies are concerned. _**

**_As for the Unbreakable Vow knowledge: he was, indeed, scared that she knew of them and worried that she would try one. Severus loves his daughter very much and he most definitely doesn't want to see her make his mistakes. Therefore, sometimes he may say and do things without thinking in order to protect her._**

**_I hope you enjoyed the story._**


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